Lights!Camera!Action!

If there's people not speaking to you down the halls, it's because for once in your life, you didn't do what they wanted. Good.

Last few days have been hectic, in a good way. I still feel like a thousand noisy bees when I get out of bed, but it passes, and it means nothing. There's a choice you make early in the day when you open your eyes, and that is to either let the world drag you down, or let the world be in its atrocious shape, recognize you're responsible for at least part of the shit in it, and then! move on with your tangible waking life. See, your brain would rather have you fight off imaginary crap, but that doesn't mean you need to play along.
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I want to count columns backwards but my sudo attempt incident will be reported. I just hope they don't ban me before I can finish up my assignment and ship it them.

I also want to do something about the little hearts. You know, the ones fluttering in and out of sight, hovering above the houseplants, squishing themselves under the scribbled paper heaps, bouncing, always elusive, but never out of mind.

Well! We will see about that.

Most people stop living long before they die

For the last one year of my life, I have been experiencing my emotions tainted through a smoke screen filter of guilt. I have made serious mistakes, sure, but I aint supposed to live like one, too. The thing is, the smoke doesn't die away on it's own (at least, not fast enough for emotions to get through), and if you tamper with it, you end up releasing more fumes. There are certain people that make this all go away in a magical puff, unexpected allies in the otherwise grayscale life of yours truly.

One of them perplexes me. I don't know if he does it on purpose or it's just his chaos interacting with mine on some subconscious level where I lose, but I can really focus on anything I choose to when he's around. The other one, he looked really pale the last time I saw him, we're like that Andrew Eldtrich song. The third one is the closest being to my soul I've ever met. He's also my preferred choice for wingman, the designated person to hold me from the back of the head as I spill my guts down the toilet.

Hardly healthy, I know. But the other-people-are-not-responsible-for-healing-up-the-shit-inside-your-head doctrine can wait. And if you think I'm talking about you, I probably aren't.

Everlasting supplies of strawberries

There have been times in life when my awareness of myself as an entity in the physical world has been reduced to an awareness of my hands. Skinny white human sticks interacting with spoonforks, steering wheels, magical seashells and hot air balloons! There's laughter and love and a light gray shirt on my shoulders as we drive towards the sun.

This trip was good for me. A country that respects itself and its visitors is a painful metaphor I can live with. Waking up with a sense of purpose, rather than a resignation to fighting with nothing, is refreshing. Some day I will learn how not to taint those sentences. For now, I am content learning how to play my own game again. It's rather odd, that the (my) way to personal confidence is to try everything else first.

Apparently, there is no legislature against discrimination in Greece. If the color of your face is not on the EU flag, you have no right to certain professions, qualified or not. If I don't want you two folks kissing in my restaurant, I am a very legal asshole, you can whine, but you can't take me to court. I wonder how the fuck we got accepted in the EU in the first place. Apart from the lack of proper human laws, we're also a dishonest breed of people - why would you trust us with any money, at all? There's only so much mess we can get away with, gentlemen.

But I don't really care for anything, right now. It's scary, my capacity for despair takes me by surprise and I end up freezing my ass off, gazing at the silver leaves beyond my window. And they look back at me, and they're malicious, and cold.